Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Another Real-Life Tucker Max Story

Kungfu Mike (Tucker Max's friend who got beaten up by cloud Starchaser last year) posted a real-life Tucker Max story recently. Tucker Max claims to make over $10,000 per month from his website and recently bragged about getting a $300,000 advance for the next pile of rubbish he calls a book. However, despite this supposed wealth, Tucker Max apparently ripped off a few restaurants and waitresses a few months ago by eating and then leaving without paying:

I went on a book signing tour once with an internet celebrity that made six figures, and he insisted on pulling a chew-and-screw at every Cracker Barrel restaurant we saw on the road. I didn't even realize that we were doing it until the 5th time.

Internet Celebrity: "Dude, let's get out of here."Me: "OK, did the waitress bring the bill around?"Internet Celebrity: "No dude, let's just go."Me: "...what? You want to chew-and-screw?!"Internet Celebrity: "Um, Mike...we do that every time we eat breakfast at one of these places."

I was so nervous walking out of that restaurant that in my rush to get out the door I bumped into some elderly guy with a cane, throwing him off balance and into some vintage toy display, leaving him on the floor with other patrons trying to help him up as I scurried out to the Ford Explorer. Fucking internet celebrities, they're like coupons with feet.

This pretty much sums up Tucker perfectly. A dude who brags about his wealth, who in turn ditches on a check. The waitress was probably some mother who is trying to make ends meet, and he left her with the bill.

Are you kidding me? The fight was a draw, and pretty pathetic by bar fighting standards. Not that I condone violence, but anyone who loses or draws to a fruitcake like Cloud should start using feminine hygiene products.

There is no more evidence needed than reading this post on his board by Tucker himself:

http://messageboard.tuckermax.com/showthread.php?t=11562&page=2&pp=10

"Guess what assholes? You had better check this site. Read it closely, because I am the future of publishing, not you. You can try and steal my shit all you want, but it won't work. You know why? None of you know what the fuck is going on because your attitudes, your tastes and your principles reflect a very limited few people, namely you and your fucked up friends. You aren't in touch. Even though you have all the money, all the influence and all the power, I am not afraid of you. But you should be afraid of me, because I have one thing you don't have: Talent."

This might have been the funniest thing Tucker ever wrote. Talent? Hahahahahaha. Tucker's only talent is selfpromotion with a very niche group of emotional cripples who call themselves men.

Yes Tucker, I'm sure that Harper Collins is shivering in their boots on your awesome book sales (66000 books sold and counting).

Tucker describes himself as "The future of publishing". Read that over again to yourself and tell me he isn't delusional. He goes on to say that Harper Collins represents a limited number of people, yet his book sold a grand total of 66000 units.

If Tucker Max is the "future of publishing" then literature is fucked.

Tucker Max has a couple of decent (albeit fabricated) stories on his website. The rest of his collection consists of shallow anecdotes, repeating the same tired theme ad infinitum.

He has also been bullshitting about a $300,000 advance. Think about it: Tucker has sold approximately 60,000 copies of his recent book. That means the dumbshit is claiming that the publisher is advancing him $5 per book, based on his previous sales.

Tucker is so full of his own bullshit, he doesn't even bother thinking through his lies any longer. He knows his fucktard audience will believe anything he says.

tucker max has zero talent. it's fucking laughable how deluded he is. he writes bullshit stories that other fuckheads live through vicariously. if he were truly talented he'd be a screenwriter or stand-up comedian or something.

i don't doubt that he got the advance. it's a fucking joke though. some dipshit editor convinced some other dipshit that this guy was gonna be the next blair witch project or something. his next book will be lame as fuck.

funny that he can't get a tv or movie deal though. you'd think they'd wanna latch onto the future.

The advance for Tucker's book isn't hard to believe. However, they are in high hopes that his next book will sell 3X as many as Beer in Hell. I don't think that will happen unless his TV show ever hits the air. Even then, it's an uphill battle for the show to ever hit the air.

I don't know if the book company realizes it yet or not, but 200K book units sold is pretty hard, considering that Tucker is a very niche market (most of Tucker's fans are not exactly book readers). Also, his next book has to be good. Have you read any of his recent stuff? Whatever "edge" he might have had in his earlier stories has obviously been lost. The midget story was just lame, so was his April Fools joke, and others.

Also, Tucker is alienating a lot of older fans such as myself with his oversized ego. That might play well with the 13-22 year olds, but anybody outside of that, well, they begin to see him for what he is, a very insecure big-mouth who thinks he's a lot more talented than he is.

some guy called him out on amazon. apparently in one of his stories he claims he was fucking a chick and a pepper spray canister in her purse went off. the guy says there's no fucking way this could happen by virtue of the design of pepper spray.

so that's one thing he made up for sure. now step up fanboys, and take tucker's nuts out of your mouths long enough to explain that one.

"I really enjoyed this book. Tucker Max has a sharp wit, and his book is more gut laughs than it is chuckles. But there is something pathetic about a 30 year old guy who still hangs out on college campuses. To Max's credit, many of these stories took place when he was in college himself. But nearly a decade later he's still at it, flogging a dead horse. He reminds me of grown men who still wear their varsity football jacket from high school. Also, some elements of his stories just don't ring true. In the "Foxfield weekend" story, he claims he was mid-coitus when a pepper spray can that was in the girl's purse discharged. Funny, but definitely fiction. Pepper spray cans have a spring-loaded guard that you must lift and slide your finger under (at which point it takes several pounds of downward pressure to spray it). At the very least, they have a safety lock you must slide over and then down (similar to what you'd find on a "child-proof" lighter). To suggest it could go off accidentaly from someone lying down on a purse is laughable. I'm not suggesting that Tucker Max is another James Frey. I have no doubt that his stories are mostly true. I'm just saying his exploits are more mundane than he makes them out to be. I also suspect he inserts fabricated dialogue after the fact (when he's had time to think about it) to make himself seem more macho and witty than he really is. Nonetheless, I consider myself to be a Tucker Max fan. I just think for his own sake he should grow up and shift his career focus. People will eventually grow tired of a 30-something guy who writes about partying with kids hardly half his age. "

Writer Craig Davidson did an interesting article on how Tucker's stories are bullshit. Here are some excerpts from this article:

"I first heard of Tucker when I ran across Maddox’s truly hilarious site, The Best Page in the Universe ( www.maddox.xmission.com ) Tucker and Maddox and Robert Hamburger (author of Real Ultimate Power—The Official Ninja Book; also hilarious) and a few other guys have been grouped together as the premier practitioners of “Fratire”—fraternity satire—which revels in the sort of things fratboys dig: epic bowel movements, drunken vomiting, insulting PC squares, farting on friends while they’re slumbering, receiving oral gratification whilst taking a dump, “nailing hot chicks in the pooper,” etc.Now before anyone get the impression I’m coming down on Fratire, let me disabuse you of that notion. I get a hearty laugh out of an epic bowel movement story, if it’s told with panache. Does that make me a bad person? Potentially, but a lot of things make me a bad person. I am a supporter of Fratire. I am not a supporter of Tucker Max, because he is a liar. Part of my anger stems from the fact that a few friends of mine, whose intelligence and senses of humor I respect, love this jackass. At one’s behest, I visited tuckermax.com and read “The Famous Sushi Pants Story.” I didn’t find the story particularly implausible—Tucker gets one of those personal Breathalyzer devices and sees how high he can blow one evening—but I didn’t find it particularly amusing, either, and so I wrote my buddy back that I wasn’t impressed with Mr. Max’s work. He wrote back that Tucker sure had lived a wacky life, hadn’t he, and it was a damn shame we didn’t have any crazy stories of our own to rival Tucker’s.Now, after further reading, I can say with 100% surety that Tucker doesn’t have any crazy stories, except for the ones he’s concocted in his head. Any lunatic in any asylum has lead five times as wild a life as Tucker Max, if the only qualification is what they’ve made it all up and fobbed it off as genuine."

"Let’s start with “Tucker Tries Buttsex.”If you’re interested, follow the link to Tucker’s site and read the story. Done? Okay.So, people will find this story funny or not funny depending on their tastes. Personally, I was turned off by Tucker’s description of himself: this indulged bananahead who takes a young lady out to dinner, a $400 tab, in order to facilitate his attempt at bum-love. When you think about it, Tucker and James Frey led the same sort of life: rich, pampered, secretly displeased with their lives which caused them to concoct elaborate fratboy fantasies where they are tougher, smarter, wittier, and can drink or take more drugs than is humanly possible. There’s probably some deep sociological underpinning there, but since that’s not really my bailiwick I’ll simply call them a couple of over-privileged, lying tools.For those who didn’t read the story, a capsule plot summation: Tucker takes a girl out to a fancy dinner, gets her drunk, and brings her back to his apartment to engage in a spirited bout of anal whoopee. Tucker has planted a buddy in his bedroom closet to tape the randy goings-on. After squirting half a tube of Astroglide up his date’s bottom, he does the deed. But his date’s colon spasms and she voids herself all over him, which makes him puke on her back, which causes her to puke, which causes the hidden cameraman to puke, etc.It’s my feeling that this whole story, top to bottom, is a lie. Not a word of truth, apart from the fact that Tucker’s name probably is Tucker. To look at a few crucial points:1. The Astroglide. In the story, Tucker empties half a 4 oz bottle of Atroglide liquid lubricant into his date’s bottom—he’s a rookie, you see, so what does he know? Well, I know from consulting the Astroglide website that they don’t sell 4 oz bottles, only 2.5 and 5 oz. Tucker writes, “I opened the cap, crammed the bottle top into her asshole, and squeezed.” Assuming he used the 5 oz bottle, he’d emptied 2.5 ounces of Astroglide into this poor girl’s bum.And she does and says NOTHING. Not a peep out of her.One thing you’re told in fiction writing workshops is to deeply imagine the scene you’re writing. Know everything about that scene, be able to see it from every character’s vantage, and that will lead to a believable piece of fiction. Tucker’s problem with his fiction-masquerading-as-fact is that he’s only capable of envisioning things from his own perspective. He can’t seem to imagine that, were he actually to jam a cold plastic bottle into a girl’s rectum and empty 2-odd ounces of gel lubricant into her, she might say something like, “What the fuck did you just do, you fucking twerp asshole?” or “I’m going to cut your twig dick off, you little bastard.” In Tucker’s story—in every story of his I read—people are basically set-dressing, like mannequins, to be manipulated and placed as he sees fit.2. The dialogue is hilariously fabricated. Take this gem, after Tucker has vomited all over the girl’s back:She turned her head, said, “Tucker, what are you doing?,” saw me vomiting on her, screamed “Oh my God!”Who the hell turns and goes, “Tucker, what are you doing?” I’ve never had my back puked on, but I’m pretty sure if I did it would take my brain synapses about .003 of a second before I realized I’d been puked on. The needless expository dialogue just cracks me up. It’s like that scene in so many movies where a character is on the phone and says something rude or insulting and everyone in the audience knows the person on the other end has hung up but the character keeps going, “Hello? Hello?” into the phone. Who in real life sits there going, “Hello? Hello?” into the dead line? I’m sure someone would in Tucker Max’s stories:She turned her head, said, “Tucker, what are you doing?,” saw me vomiting on her, screamed “Oh my God!” The phone line went dead. “Hello?” she said. “Hello? Hello?”Then there’s this priceless bit, where the girl is puking and Tucker’s buddy has just stumbled out of the closet with the video tape recorder and the totally fictitious and made-up girl goes:“OH MY GOD--BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH--YOU FILMED THIS, YOU ASSHOLE-- BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH-- HOW COULD YOU-- BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH--I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME--BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH--OH MY GOD-- BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH--I LET YOU FUCK ME IN THE ASS--BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH.”I thought you loved me? Who in god’s name would say this? You filmed this, you asshole?I let you fuck me in the ass?As I said, everyone else in Tucker’s world are mannequins, which he moves about and has speak and act in ways that suit his fictions.Of course, the alleged video tape of the incident has been broken, or so Tucker claims in a post-script. More crucially, what about the lawsuit? If I was caught secretly taping a girl while we engaged in coitus, I would fully expect to receive a lawsuit from that girl’s lawyer the following afternoon. Tucker, amazingly, avoids this. Perhaps we can believe that the girl was too embarrassed to press charges—or lucky for Tucker that make-believe girls can’t press real-life criminal charges."

Davidson takes apart 2 other stories in the article, which you can read here:

"I can’t see how I or anyone is supposed to empathize with him, either: these people he’s making fun of, nerds and dorks and little Asian gals and guys with lazy eyes—am I supposed to be in awe of him? Walk into a biker bar and talk shit, Tucker my man, and then maybe I’ll think you’ve got a passable set of stones. Otherwise you’re no more impressive than if you’d gone to the hospital lobotomy ward and insulted all the poor wrecks there."

Tucker claims that because the cameraman puked on the camera, that means the tape was ruined. This is absolutely untrue.

The tape would be encased inside the machine itself, so there's really no chance that much of the vomit would have made it into the machine. Then the tape itself is encased in plastic. Tucker claims that the entire tape was "demagnetized" because of the vomit. However, to do this, the entire tape would have to be completely immersed in a liquid, and even then, video tape does have some resiliance. Even if a little bit of vomit escaped into the machine's chassis, there probably wouldn't be enough to ruin a video tape.

They could have popped the videotape out, and even if it had a little bit of puke on/in it, it would still play. Tucker went through a lot of lengths to get the guy to videotape this, so why didn't he try to repair the tape? He could have easily unscrewed the casing, taken the tape out and put it inside another casing and the tape would have been fine.

Tucker claimed he wasn't going to do anymore interviews with smaller venues (like O&A or the NYT I assume) because he's tired of them misrepresenting his work. How about Tucker stops misrepresenting himself and maybe people will stop calling him out on his bullshit. He's a liar.

I'm also curious as to how the girl on the receiving end of Tucker Max's 2" schlong got home. A naked drunk girl covered in shit, lube and puke would be bound to attract attention. I find it highly implausible that she wouldn't have been picked up by the police.

I think you all realize he didn't make the stories up from scratch -- they al probably have a grain of truth to them, even the buttsex story. He just magnifies and exxagerates everything to make himself to be far cooler than he actually is. The development was probaby like this -- he fucked some girl up the ass and got some poo on his dick. He hauls out this story for his stupid friends, and a few of them have identical stories. (I've heard that story plenty of times in plenty of places.) so he starts thinking of how to outdo everyone else. "hmm. maybe with a video camera? Some vomitting?" and he pieces the product together.

Guys, if you hate him so much and think he is such a narrow shouldered wuss, why don't one of you grand warriors get in a fight with him/call him out/etc., in public, ON CAMERA. Show us how cool you are...

I've finally figured out why Tucker's story sounded so familiar. His story sounds distinctly like that of film director Troy Duffy. Duffy wrote and directed "The Boondock Saints", but his rise and fall sound a lot like Tucker Max. Here is Roger Eberts review of "Overnight", a documentary of behind the scenes of Duffy's very short career.

"Overnight" tells a riches-to-rags story, like "Project Greenlight" played in reverse. "Greenlight," you will recall, is the Miramax contest to choose and produce one screenplay every year by a hopeful first-time filmmaker. In "Overnight," the director starts out with a contract and money from Miramax, and works his way back to no contract, no film, and no money. Call it "Project Red Light."

The documentary tells the Hollywood story of a nine-day's wonder named Troy Duffy. He was a bartender at a sports bar called J. Sloan's on Melrose, and had written a screenplay titled "The Boondock Saints." He, his brothers and some friends had a rock band. In Los Angeles, every bartender under the age of 70 has a screenplay and is in a rock band, and they all want Harvey Weinstein of Miramax to read their script. After all, Harvey made Matt Damon and Ben Affleck stars by producing their screenplay of "Good Will Hunting."

Troy Duffy hits the trifecta. Not only does Harvey buy his screenplay, but he signs Duffy to direct it, and the band gets a recording contract, and he agrees to buy the bar; they'll own it together. To celebrate his good fortune, Duffy asked two friends, Tony Montana and Mark Brian Smith, to make a documentary of his rise. It turned out to be about his fall.

I'd give anything to see footage of the early meetings between Weinstein and Duffy. What magic did the bartender have, to so bedazzle Harvey? By the opening scenes of "Overnight," Duffy has sold a $300,000 script, has been given a $15 million budget, has signed with the William Morris Agency, and brags, "I get drunk at night, wake up the next morning hung over, go into those meetings in my overalls, and they're all wearing suits." Being Hollywood agents, they are probably also more familiar with the danger signals of alcoholism than Duffy is.

One of the subtexts of the movie involves how people look at Troy Duffy. He is very full of himself. At one point he actually says that Harvey Weinstein would like to be him. He keeps all of the money, tells the guys in the band they will get paid later, later tells them they don't deserve a dime, and still later tells them, "You do deserve it, but you're not gonna get it." He is deeply satisfied with himself: "We got a deep cesspool of creativity here," he says, and boasts "this is the first time in history they've signed a band sight unseen." Also, he might have reflected, sound unheard. As he's acting out his ego trip, the camera shows the others in the room looking at him with what can only be described as extremely fed-up expressions. His family, we sense during one scene, has been listening to this blowhard for a lifetime, and although they are happy to share his success, they're sort of waiting to see how he screws up.

So are we. The movie is pieced together out of uneven footage, and the idea of a documentary seems to have occurred in the midst of filming; at one point, a Morris agent walks into the room, looks at the lens, and says, "Oh, you got a better camera!" There are unfortunately no scenes between Duffy and Weinstein; the initial infatuation happens before the film starts, and then Weinstein pulls out of the deal by putting "The Boondock Saints" into dreaded "turnaround." The recording contract is also canceled.

Eventually a Hollywood producer named Elie Samada, who has been behind some good films but is a controversial character, picks up "The Boondock Saints" for much less than the Miramax price, and Duffy is elated again. Having dissed Keanu Reeves, Ethan Hawke and Jon Bon Jovi ("I didn't even know he was an actor"), he hires the excellent Willem Dafoe; we see one scene being filmed, in which characters a lot like Duffy and his friends get drunk and go berserk. The finished movie is taken to the Cannes marketplace, where not one single offer is made to purchase it. "Saints" eventually plays for one week in five theaters. The soundtrack album sells less than 600 copies. Then a car jumps the curb and hits Duffy, who "flees his apartment and arms himself."

Ah, but there's a happy ending! "The Boondock Saints" becomes a cult favorite on DVD, and Duffy is currently directing "Boondock II: All Saint's Day." Unfortunately, the Morris agency neglected to secure for him any portion of the DVD profits. "

That's a great article about Duffy, and I agree, Tucker's story sounds just like Duffy, although Tucker has yet to fall.

Here is a line from that article that I liked.

"I get drunk at night, wake up the next morning hung over, go into those meetings in my overalls, and they're all wearing suits." Being Hollywood agents, they are probably also more familiar with the danger signals of alcoholism"

Tucker is a lot more polished and manipulative than Duffy though, and I'm sure when he has to, he knows how to do the dog and pony act to the right people. However, I'm certain the real Tucker will come out and he'll piss those people off just like Duffy pissed off Miramax.

Wow, that is some biting, perceptive criticism. Take a bad picture of someone (obviously you've never had one) and then ridicule the way he looks, which somehow proves that he is bad and you are good. Oh ya, and after that you try to show how cheap he is by quoting his friend whom he has already quoted in his actual book. I'm assuming you're one of the vapid whores he once fucked?

If you're going to follow someone's every move, I guarantee you will find something to criticze every step of the way. The only problem is, you're trying to prove to people something that Tucker Max has never denied: That he is an asshole, who worships himself, drinks copiously, and has sex with women who are willing.

If you want anyone to take you seriously, write something more comprehensive and back it up and let him defend himself. This blog-a-day on what ugly shirt he wears in public only shows you to be petty and immature.

"Take a bad picture of someone (obviously you've never had one) and then ridicule the way he looks, which somehow proves that he is bad and you are good."

I'm sorry? You're offended that we make fun of the way Tucker looks? Half of the dialogue in Tucker's book is dedicated to making fun of how other people look. Now you're upset that people are making fun of how Tucker looks (dumpy, short, balding)? Sounds a bit hypocritical.

"The only problem is, you're trying to prove to people something that Tucker Max has never denied: That he is an asshole, who worships himself, drinks copiously, and has sex with women who are willing."

Then you should have no problem with this blog, other than the fact that people are catching on and figuring out that Tucker is lying about most of what occurs in his stories and pointing out the inconsistencies in his badly written stories.

"If you want anyone to take you seriously, write something more comprehensive and back it up and let him defend himself."

You mean like how Tucker defended himself on O&A? You mean he'll tell a story and just figure everybody believes him on face value? I haven't seen Tucker ever really defend his stories other than have a close personal friend back him up and tell people "it's true". No offense, I could have my friends tell you that I was the 2nd baseman for the Red Sox, it doesn't make it true.

The day Tucker comes up with the videotape in question (Butt Sex Story), or a police report (Absinthe Donut Story) I'll believe his stories are true. Until then, he's just a low rent James Frey in the eyes of a lot of people.

"This blog-a-day on what ugly shirt he wears in public only shows you to be petty and immature."

Yes, because Tucker is the epitome of a well adjusted, mature adult.

"At least Tucker Max is getting paid for his. "

Yes he is, and he's getting paid a lot more. This will make his "true" stories an even bigger target for scrutiny, and those people who are investigating his stories are not good friends of his, and will not accept his word on face value. I hope he makes a million dollars on his next book, because then I believe he will be exposed as the fraud I believe him to be.

"You guys are pretty pathetic, it's usually guys like you that hate on guys that have a life."

You mean how Tucker goes out of his way to hate on virtual nobodys like Anthony DiMeo or the woman who got 40th place at Ms. America?

I understand, it's perfectly fine when Tucker "hates on guys that have a life", but when we make fun of Tucker, his thin-skinned minions who can't stand the thought of people disliking somebody who is a self-described "asshole", come here in a feeble attempt to defend him. I'll let you in on a secret, Tucker doesn't give a shit about you. You are nothing more than a tool.

I think you need to get a dictionary and look up the word "hypocrite" because that's exactly what you are.

Okay, so that's the buttsex story and the pepper spray story that have serious logical inconsistencies, and the absinthe donut stories and the sushi pants story that people have failed to find proof over.

Has anyone tried to see if he's really banned from the hotel chain because he crapped on the floor in Austin? Seems like that would be easy to check up on (but I can't do it I live overseas.)

Maybe Cocky should make a whole message board to discuss Tucker Max's idiocy. On Myspace perhaps?

I'm not even going to insult you because its a flat out waste of effort. Tucker makes fun of people, leaves them anonymous and his stuff is FUNNY. Who cares if it is real or not, I don't go watch a Hollywood movie 'based on a true story' and expect it to be depicted head on. It is ENTERTAINMENT, if you don't like it, CHANGE the channel, turn the page, go to another website. I hate WWF or WWE or whatever it is, but I don't go around parading like a clown saying how dumb they look in tights on their man soap opera.

I think Tucker is funny, but I'm definitely not a fanboy. He takes things a bit too far and has left a lot of enemies (I don't know if he even met you guys, but proof enough). I guess you guys never make fun of psycho girls you hook up with or dumbasses you meet in the bars/streets? It respectful he is going his own way with his career. Who cares if he is 'supposed' to be making whatever with his degree, he is blazing his own trail, which to me is what America is about.

Regardless of all that, he is a dick and does a lot of dick things, but that is what he is about. You guys basically are beating a dead horse, in an unentertaining fashion. The only thing I find truely funny about all of your antics is how even more insecure, immature and angry you all seem to be about a guy YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW who even says himself that he is immature and a misogynist.

To the guy that called someone a 'big virgin' on the internet... are you serious? You have reached a new low.

He also mentioned what hotel it was, Embassy Suites, check it out. I'm sure if you call and say you are a reporter investigating for a story they will let you in on the info.

Cocky, you need to update more often! There's too much hate here for just the "comments" -- these should be main entries, particularly the one about the Austin Hotel. Smoking Gun fucked James Frey, Cockly McBeefwell can fuck Tucker Max! That Opie and Anthony appearance alone probably cost him hundreds of thousands of fans

Hi Tucker Fans!October 18th, 2006My name is Tucker Max, and I am completely full of shit.I get excessively drunk so often that I have far surpassed the realm of normal college debauchery and entered the realm of ‘officially has a problem with alcoholism.’ I disregard social norms by wearing really ‘out there’ clothing like white T-shirts. I mock idiots and posers while simultaneously referring to the fact that I just barely made it onto the New York Times Bestseller list almost constantly and acting shocked when people don’t swoon over this even though it’s likely that Stephen King’s grocery list would outsell all of my books put together. I sleep with a lot of young, clueless chicks that I meet on the Internet in a sad pathetic attempt to avoid establishing any real connection with anyone because, let’s face it, I have Daddy issues. Big time. In my spare time, I lament my chronic loneliness and empty existence. But all this makes me cool. Seriously.Ok, so none of that makes me cool. What makes me cool is all these totally awesome stories that I made up. Um, I mean all these totally real stories that I did not make up because they’re all totally real. Here, how about I tell you a story right now? Just to prove that I’m for real and not a blatant liar.Tucker Max Fucks a Tranny; hilarity ensues.You see, I have fucked so many girls that it’s hard for me to get excited about sex. Like, seriously, I have had so much empty sex so many times that I can’t even count. In fact, I am so goddamn bored with sex that in order for me to get the flag at more than half mast nowadays (If you know what I mean, and I think you do), I have to sex with some kind of an oddity like a Midget or an Amputee or a weird pinched face horse looking girl who demands that I call her ‘girlfriend.’ Well since I fucked all of that, I decided to head into uncharted territory. I decided to fuck a tranny.It went down like this:So my friend calls me up and says this:DrunkRex: Hey man, I was just about to fuck this tranny, but I noticed she had herpes so I opted out. But I figured since you already had herpes, you wouldn’t mind. You in?Tucker: Fuck you.DrunkRex: No way, man. I’m totally serious. She’s already been paid and everything.Tucker: Did you tell her that I’m a New York Times Best Selling Author?DrunkRex: Sure did. And she was like, really impressed. Like really.Tucker: I hate you.DrunkRex: Listen, are you going to fuck this tranny or not?Tucker: In a minute. First I have to fill the rest of this page with more pointless, uninteresting dialogue. Makes the story look longer.DrunkRex: …Tucker: … DrunkRex: You done yet?Tucker: Yeah, man, I’m on my way.So I hopped into a cab and headed to a sleazy cockroach ridden motel where my TrannyPrincess waited for me. This was going to be so cool! But then I started feeling something that I totally normally don’t feel: Nervousness. I mean, is this what it’s like being a normal guy and not a New York Times Bestselling Author? Because this sucks. I don’t know how all you mere mortal beta type guys handle it. I had to chant to myself ‘I am not a failure, I am not a failure, no matter what my parents think, I am not a failure’ for a full 5 minutes before I got the sack to walk up to the room. But once I got inside, it was all good.My TrannyPrincess was totally hot and totally wasted. Like, seriously, she was passed out on the bed and DrunkRex had to nudge her awake.DrunkRex: Hey Isabella, wake up. This is Tucker.TrannyPrincess: Ump? Er….ugh….oh Hi.DrunkRex: *whispering* Seriously, bitch, I just paid you $50. Act like you’re totally impressed to be meeting him.TrannyPrincess: Habba? Ooo….ugh. Hi Tucker, I am totally impressed to be meeting you…like I’ve seen all your….stuff? You know, that stuff that made you super duper famous?DrunkRex: *whispering* Books, you dumb slut, BOOKS!TrannyPrincess: Books! I totally read everything you write. Seriously, you’re my favorite. *aside to DrunkRex* Is his voice usually that girly sounding?Tucker: … DrunkRex: … TrannyPrincess: …DrunkRex: Tucker?Tucker: Dude, man, I have to make it to 3 pages.DrunkRex: Jesus Christ.So here’s what’s up, fucking a Tranny was shockingly disappointing. It’s kinda like fucking TheBunny when she’s wearing that strap-on thingy that she has. Except the Tranny didn’t run to the bathroom and cry for about two hours afterward.When I was done (Which was really quick, according to the rumors), me, DrunkRex, and the TrannyPrincess all played ‘I never’ and I had a total blast even though I’m middle aged and I should really be done with this college frat party bullshit. I passed out drunk and woke up in a bathtub full of freezing cold water. And my kidney was gone! Dude, can you believe it? My TrannyPrincess totally stole my kidney so she could sell it on the black market! Seriously, this story is 100% true. It was the absolute weirdest thing that has ever happened to me in my whole crazy life.Oh, did I mention that I’m a New York Times Best Selling Author?I did?Oh well. Aren’t you, like, totally impressed?

Hi Tucker Fans!October 18th, 2006My name is Tucker Max, and I am completely full of shit.I get excessively drunk so often that I have far surpassed the realm of normal college debauchery and entered the realm of ‘officially has a problem with alcoholism.’ I disregard social norms by wearing really ‘out there’ clothing like white T-shirts. I mock idiots and posers while simultaneously referring to the fact that I just barely made it onto the New York Times Bestseller list almost constantly and acting shocked when people don’t swoon over this even though it’s likely that Stephen King’s grocery list would outsell all of my books put together. I sleep with a lot of young, clueless chicks that I meet on the Internet in a sad pathetic attempt to avoid establishing any real connection with anyone because, let’s face it, I have Daddy issues. Big time. In my spare time, I lament my chronic loneliness and empty existence. But all this makes me cool. Seriously.Ok, so none of that makes me cool. What makes me cool is all these totally awesome stories that I made up. Um, I mean all these totally real stories that I did not make up because they’re all totally real. Here, how about I tell you a story right now? Just to prove that I’m for real and not a blatant liar.Tucker Max Fucks a Tranny; hilarity ensues.You see, I have fucked so many girls that it’s hard for me to get excited about sex. Like, seriously, I have had so much empty sex so many times that I can’t even count. In fact, I am so goddamn bored with sex that in order for me to get the flag at more than half mast nowadays (If you know what I mean, and I think you do), I have to sex with some kind of an oddity like a Midget or an Amputee or a weird pinched face horse looking girl who demands that I call her ‘girlfriend.’ Well since I fucked all of that, I decided to head into uncharted territory. I decided to fuck a tranny.It went down like this:So my friend calls me up and says this:DrunkRex: Hey man, I was just about to fuck this tranny, but I noticed she had herpes so I opted out. But I figured since you already had herpes, you wouldn’t mind. You in?Tucker: Fuck you.DrunkRex: No way, man. I’m totally serious. She’s already been paid and everything.Tucker: Did you tell her that I’m a New York Times Best Selling Author?DrunkRex: Sure did. And she was like, really impressed. Like really.Tucker: I hate you.DrunkRex: Listen, are you going to fuck this tranny or not?Tucker: In a minute. First I have to fill the rest of this page with more pointless, uninteresting dialogue. Makes the story look longer.DrunkRex: …Tucker: … DrunkRex: You done yet?Tucker: Yeah, man, I’m on my way.So I hopped into a cab and headed to a sleazy cockroach ridden motel where my TrannyPrincess waited for me. This was going to be so cool! But then I started feeling something that I totally normally don’t feel: Nervousness. I mean, is this what it’s like being a normal guy and not a New York Times Bestselling Author? Because this sucks. I don’t know how all you mere mortal beta type guys handle it. I had to chant to myself ‘I am not a failure, I am not a failure, no matter what my parents think, I am not a failure’ for a full 5 minutes before I got the sack to walk up to the room. But once I got inside, it was all good.My TrannyPrincess was totally hot and totally wasted. Like, seriously, she was passed out on the bed and DrunkRex had to nudge her awake.DrunkRex: Hey Isabella, wake up. This is Tucker.TrannyPrincess: Ump? Er….ugh….oh Hi.DrunkRex: *whispering* Seriously, bitch, I just paid you $50. Act like you’re totally impressed to be meeting him.TrannyPrincess: Habba? Ooo….ugh. Hi Tucker, I am totally impressed to be meeting you…like I’ve seen all your….stuff? You know, that stuff that made you super duper famous?DrunkRex: *whispering* Books, you dumb slut, BOOKS!TrannyPrincess: Books! I totally read everything you write. Seriously, you’re my favorite. *aside to DrunkRex* Is his voice usually that girly sounding?Tucker: … DrunkRex: … TrannyPrincess: …DrunkRex: Tucker?Tucker: Dude, man, I have to make it to 3 pages.DrunkRex: Jesus Christ.So here’s what’s up, fucking a Tranny was shockingly disappointing. It’s kinda like fucking TheBunny when she’s wearing that strap-on thingy that she has. Except the Tranny didn’t run to the bathroom and cry for about two hours afterward.When I was done (Which was really quick, according to the rumors), me, DrunkRex, and the TrannyPrincess all played ‘I never’ and I had a total blast even though I’m middle aged and I should really be done with this college frat party bullshit. I passed out drunk and woke up in a bathtub full of freezing cold water. And my kidney was gone! Dude, can you believe it? My TrannyPrincess totally stole my kidney so she could sell it on the black market! Seriously, this story is 100% true. It was the absolute weirdest thing that has ever happened to me in my whole crazy life.Oh, did I mention that I’m a New York Times Best Selling Author?I did?Oh well. Aren’t you, like, totally impressed?

Yes, Tucker Max is an asshole and yes, he freely admits it. But that does not exonerate him from one simple fact: HE'S AN ASSHOLE. Asshole being the very word to define someone who treats others like crap, and therefore deserves to be treated the same. Max will never succeed in the mainstream because he has no appeal - his charismatic alpha-male tendecies only cater to the young and insecure and eventually most of them grow out of it. There is little that is reedemable about him except for a good laugh, but the idea that he will ever reach true widespread success is delusional.

I work in publishing. I can tell you without any doubt that the publisher that put out Tucker Max's book does not pay $300K advances. Their typical advance is three grand. They probably top out somewhere around fifty.